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"We don't actually know if he likes me, Nora," I remind her. "He's never said anything."
"True," she agrees, "but the way he looks at you...Jenny, it's like he's so in love."
"Why did he reject me, then?" I ask, clutching my aching chest with my hand.
She shakes her head. "I don't know. Maybe he got scared."
"Scared of what?" I question, tugging at my blond hair.
"I mean you're Jenny and he's Matt," she starts to explain, her large eyes getting impossibly bigger. "That's so much pressure at 17."
I swallow hard. "We're both almost 18. His birthday's next week."
She waves a well-manicured hand through the air. "Sorry, 18. He might have freaked out. Got cold feet. Realized that this was real for the first time."
"What do I do then?"
"You could answer his phone calls," she shrugs, looking down at the phone sitting between us. It’s bee vibrating the whole time we've been talking. Matt's persistent, I'll give him that. "Or you could take some time and space and think things through," she suggests. "I'm not sure what you're supposed do. You just have to do what feels right for you."
I lean forward and wrap my arms around her neck. She laughs quietly before her much shorter arms settle on my midsection.
"Let's go eat," she says into my hair. "Your dad has steaks on the grill."
I stand from my bed, somehow feeling both lighter and heavier at the same time.
—
I stand on the front porch, shivering from the bitterly cold mountain air. I've been trying to work up the nerve to knock on the door for the past ten minutes. I'm not ready to face him yet, but I really do need a ride to school tomorrow morning.
Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place.
My teeth begin to chatter, and I hate the way it sounds and feels. Closing my eyes, I raise my hand and knock as quietly as I can, hoping no one will hear and I'll just have to stay home from school tomorrow.
Yeah, that's a good plan.
I wait a few seconds before swiftly turning on my heel and heading towards the porch steps, back to the pathway between our two houses.
"Jen?" a familiar voice calls out. I know it's only been a day, but I already missed hearing him say my name.
Dammit. What's wrong with me? He rejected me. Humiliated me. But all I can think about is how much I want him to say my name again.
I slowly turn around and take him in. He's wearing plaid pajama pants and a plain white T-shirt. He was in bed, or just about to go to bed. He's always been a lightweight. Can't stay up past ten o'clock to save his life.
His brown hair is tousled on top of his head, like he's been running his fingers through it repeatedly. And his face. Oh, his beautiful face. It looks sad and torn and guilty.
"Hey," I finally say. My voice sounds too quiet, too hurt. I cross my arms over my chest, creating a shield around my broken, beaten, battered heart.
He takes a few steps towards me, his feet bare. "Hey."
Before I can stop him, he wraps his long, strong arms around me, pulling me into him. I do my best not to shamelessly inhale his scent as my face rests gently against this chest. His woodsy, slightly boyish, but intoxicating scent. He smells like Matt. The best smell in the entire world.
I attempt to put distance between us so we can speak face-to-face, but he tightens his grip on me. I want to uncross my arms and wrap them around his torso. But I don't.
Against my ear, he whispers, "I'm so sorry, Jen. I can't even tell you how sorry I am. I feel...so bad."
I shake my head, willing the tears not to fall. When did I become such a cry baby?
"It's fine," I say without much conviction.
